True Lies
by BrunetteAuthorette99
Summary: Mercer Frey returns from Snow Veil Sanctum, considerably the worse for wear - and, much to Brynjolf's dismay, without his promising new protégée. How does he and the other members of the Thieves Guild react to the shocking news concerning Kajsa? One-shot.


**[A/N] I can't have been the only one who wondered exactly ****_what_**** Mercer told the rest of the Thieves Guild after he got back from Snow Veil Sanctum ****_sans_**** Dovahkiin. Whatever it was, it couldn't have been pleasant if it persuaded Brynjolf - your biggest supporter in the Guild! - as well as Vex and Delvin to pull their daggers on you and Karliah as soon as you walk into the Cistern. Not to mention that my Dovahkiin is not exactly above reproach... but in the end, a girl has to draw (er, write) her own conclusions.**

**[DISCLAIMER] I do not own ****The ****Elder ****Scrolls ****V****: ****Sk****y****rim**** or anything related to it; that's Bethesda's deal, not mine (sadly). And no matter how much I love it, I do not own the excellent Ah-nold Schwarzenegger and Jaime Lee Curtis movie ****True ****Lies**** (from which my title is shamelessly ripped off from). ****However, Kajsa Red-Blade is my original character and she belongs to me.**  


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_**TRUE LIES**_

Nights in the Ragged Flagon were usually fairly quiet. No especially rowdy patrons, no unexplainable fistfights or duels, and certainly no bards to wail ballads over the din – just the swilling of mead, the lapping and dripping of the sewer water, and muttered conversations.

To Brynjolf, the reasoning behind this was fairly simple: everyone here knew each other. Unless they were looking to join (a rare occurrence these days), outsiders rarely ventured into the Ratway for a drink; all of the Flagon's patrons were either associated with or part of the Thieves Guild. And everyone who frequented the bar knew full well that Vekel the Man, the barkeep, did not tolerate disturbances of any kind.

Tonight was no exception to the rule. It was well after midnight, and while some of the younger members were catching up on sleep or training in the Cistern, most others were in the Ragged Flagon, following their usual nightly routine: better known as casual conversation over some bottles of mead.

Casual for the Thieves Guild, at least.

"Steal anything worth talking about?" Vex asked him, eyes glittered in anticipation.

Brynjolf smiled, plucking a bulging coin purse from one of the pouches on his armor and waving it. "Only the septims of gullible travelers and Riften residents, lass. I'm honestly a little disappointed that it was that easy."

"Still milkin' that 'Falmerblood Elixir,' then, huh?" Delvin Mallory chortled, taking a swig of Black-Briar Reserve.

"I'm on my last bottles. I'll have to move onto something else in due time." The red-haired Nord sighed. "Pity. It was probably my most popular scam."

"Maybe you can finally quit the merchant act for good, Bryn. Things are startin' to look up down here." The Breton thief leaned over the table conspiratorially. "Did Vekel tell you who dropped in a few nights ago?"

"Who?" Vex twirled one pale, thin finger around the rim of her tankard.

"The boss lady herself. Maven Black-Briar." Delvin looked slightly smug at his friends' incredulous expressions. "She was _smilin'_, even. Vekel said he'd never seen her that pleased."

"I would have paid good money to see that," the Imperial infiltrator said wickedly.

From the bar, Tonilia laughed. "You think _that's _news? Guess who I heard from?"

The three thieves at the round table shrugged, prepared for anything.

"That slimy Argonian, Gulum-Ei. He says he owes a debt to the Guild and he wants to work with us again as a fence."

At his post by the Ragged Flagon's sign, Dirge crossed his arms over his armored chest and glowered. "I don't like him. Nothing but trouble."

"Unfortunately, it wasn't my call. Mercer seemed pleased enough, though."

Everyone fell silent at that. It was an unspoken truth amongst the members of the Thieves Guild that when their grumpy, easily angered Guildmaster was happy, life in the Cistern was much easier for everyone. No one was willing to upset _that _apple-cart.

Brynjolf broke the silence. "Speaking of Mercer, does anyone know when he'll be back?"

"Beats me. But if I didn't know any better," Delvin remarked slyly, "I'd say you were hoping for the return of your lovely little protégée."

The Nord thief frowned. "Kajsa went with him? I thought the lass was doing some jobs in Markarth for you and Vex."

"Nope. Frey brought her along when he left... what has it been... a few days ago?"

"What for?" Brynjolf's brow furrowed even further; the whole story was getting stranger with every word out of the Breton's mouth. "Do you know where they were headed?"

Vex snorted indelicately. "Mercer is a man of mystery. I have no clue where he went."

"Oh, cheer up, Bryn," Delvin said jokingly, seeing the perplexed look on his friend's face. "You'll have your girl back soon enough. Hopefully, she'll have some rare trinket to sell to me, plenty of ill-gotten loot for Tonilia, and good news of some jobs well done."

"She's not my 'girl,'" the red-haired Nord sighed exasperatedly. "Just a promising young thief that I've taken under my wing."

"And, more likely than not, your bedcovers," Vex snickered.

"There's nothing going on between Kajsa and I, and that's final," Brynjolf said firmly.

Tonilia raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really. Don't tell me she rebuffed your advances like any _sensible_ girl would."

Dirge coughed something under his breath about how the resident fence would know that. Vekel grabbed a broom and started sweeping, lest anyone see his poorly-concealed smile. Vex attempted to hold in some unladylike sniggers, while Delvin smiled in mock sympathy.

Brynjolf just glared.

The creaking of the Ragged Flagon's door from the Ratway, and the abrupt slamming of it soon afterwards, caught everyone's attention. Six heads swiveled over.

Mercer Frey, his customary scowl even deeper than usual, limped past Dirge. His Guildmaster's armor of black leather was covered in dried blood and unsightly slashes. Where his gauntlets were missing, purpling bruises showed on his arms. An ugly gash on his forehead stood out against the pallor of his face.

The bar was so still, Brynjolf swore he could have heard a lock pick drop.

"What are you staring at?" Mercer snarled, breaking the stunned silence. "In case you haven't noticed yet, I need medical attention!"

Vekel leapt into action, turning to his lover first. "Tonilia, I need supplies. Sinew, needles, bandages, and some potions if there are any left. You can find them in the back room." He pointed at Dirge next. "Bar the door. Don't want anyone unexpected wandering in." Finally, he glanced at the three thieves, still sitting around the round table with their tankards of mead. "Just stay out of the way unless Mercer or myself needs your help."

Nodding, the burly bouncer headed off. The Guildmaster sat down rather stiffly on one of the barstools and shrugged off his ruined cuirass as the Redguard fence returned with a crate of medical supplies and set it down on the counter. The barkeep, now examining the Breton's wounds with a critical eye, murmured a few words of thanks before swabbing one of Mercer's deeper wounds with a soaked cloth.

Delvin whistled. "Damn. You got cut up somethin' terrible."

"I'll thank you to keep your snide comments to yourself, Mallory," Mercer retorted through gritted teeth; it seemed he wasn't handling the sting of the healing potions very well. "I didn't see _you _tramping through a trap-filled Nordic tomb overpopulated with draugr."

Brynjolf's frown returned. "If you don't mind my asking, Mercer, what in the name of Nocturnal were you doing in a barrow?"

The Guildmaster straightened up as best he could, considering that Vekel had moved on to bandaging his arms. "Tracking down Karliah."

For the third time that night, a sudden, pall-like silence fell over the Ragged Flagon. Everyone present knew of the notorious Dunmer thief that, twenty-five years ago, had killed the previous Guildmaster, Gallus Desidenius, and then vanished without a trace. Ever since taking charge of the Thieves Guild, Mercer had devoted much of his time and energy to catching the murderess, but never succeeded.

"Karliah?" Brynjolf echoed, shocked. "How did she come into this? Did she –?"

"Yes," Mercer finished grimly. "_She_ was the one who bought Goldenglow Estate and financed Honningbrew Meadery in order to drive a wedge between the Guild and Maven. I didn't realize it until your protégée returned from Solitude and told me what Gulum-Ei had said."

_Kajsa. _The Nord thief suddenly remembered that she was supposed to be with the Guildmaster. "Where _is _Kajsa, anyway?"

"Yeah," Delvin chimed in, "wasn't Bryn's girl supposed to be with you?"

Under the shadow of Vekel's arm as the barkeep stitched up the gash on his forehead, Mercer's cold eyes hardened.

Even Vex looked slightly strained. "Did something... happen to her?"

"You could say that," the Guildmaster muttered venomously, staring pointedly at Brynjolf. "She's dead."

"_What?_" The red-haired Nord shot out of his seat, nearly upending the table, his fists clenched and his face disbelieving. "How?"

"Your 'girl,'" Mercer sneered, now disregarding Vekel's doctoring, "was a traitor to the Guild. She was working for Karliah and she paid dearly for it."

"You killed her?" Brynjolf looked as if he'd been struck.

"Oh, no. The Dunmer shot Kajsa – that was the bitch's name, wasn't it? – before I could get much out of her. I just finished the job. Your latest protégée is currently rotting on the floor of Snow Veil Sanctum with an arrow in her heart and her guts displaced."

Staggering back into his chair, the Nord thief buried his face in his hands. "By the gods... how could I not have seen it? _How?_"

No one responded. Vekel averted his eyes from his upset friend and continued stitching up the Guildmaster's wounds. Tonilia shifted her feet uncomfortably and Dirge chose to stick to the shadows by the Ragged Flagon's sign. Vex picked at her nails.

"She fooled us all, Bryn," Delvin managed, awkwardly patting him on the back. "Kajsa seemed like a decent enough girl."

"It was a fine act," Mercer agreed gruffly. "There was only one problem: she was too damn good to be true. Think about it, Brynjolf. You need someone for a quick job to put Brand-Shei in jail and she _happens_ to be right there. I want someone to send Aringoth a message and she accomplishes what's easily the toughest job ever assigned to us like it was child's play. She even got that notoriously close-lipped lizard Gulum-Ei to talk!

"I didn't fully figure it out until the two of us were going through Snow Veil Sanctum. It was obvious that Kajsa – if that even _is _her real name – was trained by Karliah; she always used her bow first and her blades second. The girl knew her way around every damn trap in that tomb and picked every single lock." The Guildmaster spread his hands in a gesture of finality. "If that doesn't scream 'double agent,' I don't know what does."

"It became clear that _Kajsa_ was going to lead me into an ambush, and then finish me off with Karliah's help. I confronted her and she confessed her guilt. That was when the Dunmer decided to tie up her loose ends. Arrow tipped with a paralytic poison. I saw no use in leaving the bitch alive and I finished what Karliah had begun."

Delvin raised his hand slightly to indicate a question. "Why not bring her back to the Guild to answer for her betrayal?"

"Are you questioning my methods, Mallory?" Mercer snapped as Vekel finished tying up the last of the bandages. "She would have died either way, if _that's_ what you were wondering about. The Guild looks out for its own, but there is no honor in defending people like her." With that, the sour-faced Breton collected his discarded cuirass and weapons, and he swept off in the direction of the Cistern.

Vex was the first to speak after the Guildmaster had stormed out. "I suppose that takes care of my competition, then."

"'_Competition_'?" Brynjolf raised his head and glared at the Imperial infiltrator angrily. "You warmed to the lass, same as we all did. She was a born thief, through and through. Don't you dare write her off like that."

"She's dead to us now, Bryn," Tonilia said quietly, "both figuratively and literally. She betrayed our trust, and we would have paid dearly for it if she had succeeded in her schemes."

"Kajsa was restoring us to our former glory," the red-haired Nord argued, his voice rising. "She was making the Thieves Guild something to be feared! We were all the family she had; she couldn't have turned against us! She couldn't have been working for Karliah!"

"Easy there –" Delvin started, trying to calm his friend down.

Brynjolf pushed the balding Breton away. "No, Delvin. _Don't_."

"It's useless to deny it," Vekel stated firmly. "Kajsa may have been a talented young thief, but uprooting the Guild is no laughing matter. She would never have been allowed to get away with murdering Mercer."

Vex, still wary of Brynjolf's fury, spoke up again. "Bryn... how do you know that she wouldn't have done this? I'm not making fun of you and your ways with women," she added as he glared at her, "I'm just wondering why you're so certain."

The Nord thief thought for a long time, his memories of Kajsa wandering around and falling together into an indistinguishable muddle. Her sitting at a table in the Bee and Barb, ragged and hopeless. Her in her new Thieves Guild armor. Her grabbing a bottle of Black-Briar mead in the Ragged Flagon after a job. Her selling enormous quantities of stolen goods to a delighted Tonilia. Her taking jobs from Vex and Delvin, smiling when she reported them completed – some of the only times she ever showed outward emotion.

Her pushing him away, pale face pained and hands warding him off, after he'd kissed her outside the inn one rainy night. Her quietly saying that she couldn't make attachments, that she didn't love him in that way. Her disappearing into the shadows of an alleyway, leaving him alone in the streets with the bitter feelings of defeat and heartbreak, the woodsy smell of her hair still lingering in the damp air around him.

Kajsa was a mystery, a lock that he couldn't quite pick, a code that didn't quite translate. Her mercurial nature and her fondness of isolation made it difficult for him to work with her, to get to know her – but easy for him to become smitten and hard to be rejected.

Finally, Brynjolf answered the question with a heavy heart and a harsh tone, knowing that what he said was the cold, vicious truth. "I'm _not_ certain, lass. I never was about her."

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**[A/N] Angst, thy name is Brynjolf! ;) To be honest, he's one of my favorite members of the Thieves Guild for obvious reasons (dat accent!), but I don't think Kajsa would ever go for him. No clue why, just an author's hunch.**

**In any case, please review if you enjoyed this oneshot. And, as always, tell me what you think of the characterization.**

**_BrunetteAuthorette99_**


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